


You, Me & Everyone You Know

by neerdowellwolf



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bisexual Character, Extremely mild slut shaming, F/F, F/M, Oral Sex, Promiscuity, Rule 63, Vaginal Sex, Women in the NHL, girl!Travis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 13:24:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17488835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neerdowellwolf/pseuds/neerdowellwolf
Summary: No one has ever accused Travis Konecny of not going after what she wants.





	You, Me & Everyone You Know

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't tag all of the pairings in this, because they're so brief, but I tagged everyone Travis fucks in the tags. 
> 
> This fic has no basis in reality, right down to the Flyers schedule. 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

No one has ever accused Travis Konecny of not going after what she wants. 

In Colorado Tyson Barrie bends her over the desk in her hotel room and fucks her until her legs are ready to give out. Afterwards they order Tiramisu from room service and eat it while watching Riverdale. 

The Devils come into town and beat them 2-1. Keith Kinkaid skips the bus back to come over to her place. She wasn't sure he would after she spent the entire game talking shit around his crease, but after he fucks her for the fourth time Travis thinks she understands a little better what he's into.

The Avs come to Philly and she sends Tyson a snap before the game of her and Gritty with the caption, “The guy she told you not to worry about.” He takes a screenshot, but doesn't reply.

He's waiting for her outside the locker room when she finishes with the media. They pass by Claude on the way to her car. He fist bumps them both and congratulates Tyson on his season. Travis doesn't look back, but she can feel him watching them walk away. 

In Arizona she rides Dylan Strome while Jakob Chychrun watches. She wanted to fuck him too, but he comes as soon as Dylan does. Travis huffs about it until Dylan goes down on her, sloppy and groveling in apology.

She makes it back to the hotel well ahead of curfew. Claude and Simmer are drinking in the hotel bar when she walks through the lobby, but they either don’t see her or pretend they don't.

The Caps play them in a matinee and the night before Andre Burakovsky rides Travis’s thigh until her skin is slick with sweat and Andre's wetness. She lets Travis play with her tits until they’re ready to go again. 

She gives Travis a hickey high on her breast. It spills over her sports bra and Travis catches Claude looking at it as they dress for the game the next day.

The team flies into Buffalo early to avoid the worst of a New England snowstorm. She sits on Jack Eichel's face and comes so hard she's worried she might suffocate him. 

“Nice work, Necs,” he says as they're catching their breath. There's a huge painting of Fenway Park above his bed.

“No one calls me that.”

“Aw, live a little.”

She idly traces the cut of his abs. “What do you call what we just did?”

He smiles, slow and predatory. “Round one.”

When she finally gets back to the hotel everyone is playing CoD in her and Provy's room. They wolf whistle at her, pestering her for details about where she's been. Claude doesn't look up from the game. 

In Winnipeg she lets Mark Scheifele spread her out on his extremely soft bedspread and fuck her slowly to the beat of a cheesy R&B playlist. She might laugh if he wasn't hitting her g spot perfectly on every other thrust.

She checks him against the boards in the second period and he laughs. Claude takes a hooking penalty on their next shift.

 

Travis goes out with the team after their game in Montreal. She's had a few drinks when Claude sidles up next to her at the bar. 

“No plans tonight?” Claude signals the bartender with his empty glass.

“This doesn't count as plans?” Travis downs the rest of her vodka soda.

“Just thought maybe the Price was right?” Claude smiles and turns to the bartender. “A Siboire and whatever she's having.”

“You don't normally talk about that,” Travis says. “Everyone else chirps me, but not you.”

“You want me to call you a slut?” 

Travis inhales sharply and her skin tingles. “No,” she lies.

Claude holds his beer up to his lips, his look lingering. “Are you fucking those guys to get my attention?” 

“No.” 

“But you do,” he takes a sip, “want my attention.”

Travis licks her lips. “Yes.”

Claude leans in and whispers in her ear, “Well, you have it.” 

He pulls back and smiles at her before turning around and walking away, his half full beer abandoned on the bar. He's halfway across the room before Travis remembers to breathe. 

 

There's a trainer in Tampa who was with them at Worlds. She nods to him during warmups and after the game, a chippy OT loss, she finds him waiting outside their locker room. 

“Hey Travis 2,” she says. 

“You're in my house. I think that makes you Travis 2.” 

“Whatever you say, T2.” Travis grins. 

“I have a couple things I need to finish here, but can I buy you a drink?”

“You can buy me a couple.”

When she turns to go back to the locker room, Claude is there leaning against the wall. 

“So, whose name will you yell when you’re coming?” He looks her up and down and smiles. 

“I never yell a man’s name in bed, it goes to their head.” 

Claude chuckles. “Is that right?”

“It’s what I said, isn’t it?”

Claude leans forward, close enough that his beard scrapes lightly against her cheek. He whispers right in her ear. “When he fucks you tonight, try not to think about me.”

Travis inhales, but Claude is already pulling back and heading back into the visitor’s locker room. 

Later, she’s propped up in Travis’s lap as he fucks into her from behind and she can’t help thinking about how it would feel with Claude. Would he fuck her hard or keep it slower, making her beg for more? She drags Travis’s hand to her lips and sucks two fingers into her mouth, afraid of what she might say. 

 

In Chicago there’s a girl behind the bench in a Bears snapback and a Slater-Kinney t-shirt. Travis asks their security guard to pass her a note after the 2nd period. By the time she gets back to the locker room after the game there’s a text waiting. 

She takes Travis out to some ridiculous cocktail bar where her drink is made with dry ice next to the table and then drops to her knees for her in the single stall bathroom. 

Claude is sitting at the bar alone when she gets back to the hotel. He doesn’t look up when she sits down next to him, but he does signal the bartender who puts a glass of scotch in front of her. It smells smokey and burns her throat a little. 

“Good night?” Claude asks, his voice soft. 

“I had a $30 alcoholic snow cone.”

“Don’t make me give you the speech about saving for retirement, Teeks.”

Travis barely resists rolling her eyes. “But the Monday lambo is no good on Tuesdays, Cap.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Claude swallows the rest of his drink and Travis stares at his jaw. His beard is always so well trimmed. She wants to go deeper into the playoffs for a lot of reasons, but she really wants to see what his beard looks like wild and unkept. 

“Finish your drink, I’m not letting you make me miss curfew.” 

“So, were you waiting up for me? Travis asks as they walk down the quiet hallway towards their rooms. 

“What if I was?” 

“You worried about me?” They reach her room first. She doesn’t open the door yet, because Provy is probably still awake. 

“I just like seeing you.” Claude smiles and reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Good night, Travis.”

“Good night,” she whispers back and slips into her room. 

Provy isn’t awake, so she leans against the door for a long time feeling the ghost of Claude’s fingers on her cheek. 

 

They fly into St. Louis and she texts Ryan O’Reilly a stream of eggplant emoji until he responds. He sends a laughing emoji and an address. She goes out to dinner with the team, but catches her own Uber afterwards. Claude gives her a little wave and she blows him a kiss as she climbs in the back seat. 

Ryan answers the door in a pair of low slung shorts and no shirt. She eats him out, which isn't her necessarily favorite, but she enjoys how much it makes him absolutely lose his mind.

They don't have a curfew, so she stays the night. In the morning they have sleepy morning sex and he makes her banana pancakes. They eat side by side at his breakfast bar, then he drives her to the Blues facility for practice. 

Travis gets out of his car and before she can close the door he yells, “Have a great day at work, honey!” 

She flips him off and slams the door. 

There are a few Flyers fans waiting in the parking lot, so she signs some jerseys and hopes they weren't paying too close attention. 

 

She hits the boards head first in Boston and spends half of the second under concussion protocol. 

David Pasternak stops her in the hall after the game. “You're ok?” He sounds genuinely concerned. 

She gives him a thumbs up. “All good.”

He grins and she likes his chipped teeth. “Next time I hit you harder, yeah?” 

Her eyebrows shoot up. “You can fucking try.” 

“I will hit you, but I won't hurt your face,” he says. His smile is friendly and suggestive. “I promise.” 

She hadn't expected it, but she lets him drive her back to his waterfront condo rides him on a chaise lounge in his huge walk in closet. They play a round of CoD sprawled naked across his couch, then she gets dressed and leaves.

 

Later that week they play the Rangers at Madison Square Garden. She lines up across from Chris Kreider and flashes him a smile as Couts argues with the linesman about the face off. “Sup Kreider?”

“Jesus you’re shameless, Konecny,” he says, but he’s smiling. 

In the third she gets sent to the box for tripping. A minute later he ends up next to her for a high stick on Patty. 

“There are easier ways to get me alone,” she yells through the glass. 

“We’re not alone,” he says and gestures to the officials in the box with them. “That’s Steve and this is Al.” 

“Come here often, Steve?” She puts her mouthguard back in. 

“Almost as much as you,” he says and opens the door as her time expires. She gets the puck on her stick as soon as she’s out and puts it top shelf. It’s the backup in goal, but still she whoops as Claude slams her into the boards. 

“Thanks!” she yells as she skates by the Ranger bench. “I feel bad I didn't get you a gift too.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Kreider yells back. 

Couts eyes her warily as she scoots past him on the bench. “Geez, Teeks, you never rest do you?”

“Some of us can multitask.”

“Head in the game, Konecny,” Knoblauch says from behind her, patting her helmet lightly. 

“Oh, I’m in the game, coach,” she responds just as Jimmy Vesey gets slammed by Radko across the ice. “Keep your head up, Encyclopedia Brown!” she yells. 

They win in a shootout and Travis feels the adrenaline from the game pulse under her skin as she showers and changes . She’d almost forgotten about Kreider until she passes Claude on her way out of the locker room. 

He puts a hand on her leg, just above her knee. She stops short and turns to look at him. 

“Have fun tonight, eh.” She loves to just look at his face sometimes. He’s so handsome, his face broad and angular. There are dark circles under his eyes, but it’s January, she has them too. 

“Maybe I’ll see you later?” 

“Maybe.” He smiles and she feels it flutter through her chest. 

Kreider is waiting for her in the hallway. “You going to buy me a drink to make up for ruining my day?”

She laughs. “Oh, please. I made your day and we both know it.” 

They end up at a restaurant in Chinatown, because they’re both starving and he claims they have the best soup dumplings in the country. 

“What about Seattle? What if they have better dumplings and you won’t know for another two years?”

“Believe it or not, I have been to places without hockey teams.” His eyes sparkle when he takes a long drink from his beer and she realizes she actually kind of likes him. 

“You’re such an American,” she says and he just laughs. 

They go back to his place, a sparse loft space with huge windows and exposed brick. He has actual framed art on his walls. She wonders if Claude lives somewhere like this. 

He crowds her against the back of the couch and kisses her. It’s slow and thorough and she isn’t expecting it when he hoists her legs around his waist and carries her into the bedroom. 

The sex isn’t hard and fast, but it isn’t slow either. He’s exacting in the way he fucks her, keeping a steady, purposeful rhythm to his thrusts. “Like that?” He asks, not in the porny way some guys do, but like an actual question. 

She groans, “Harder,” and he listens. 

He puts his number in her phone before she leaves, calls her a cab and walks her downstairs to wait with her. When she gets back to the hotel she’s disappointed not to see Claude at the bar. 

Patty and Provs are sprawled out on one of the beds watching a movie when she gets back to her room. “How was your ride downtown?” Provy asks, a leer to her voice. 

“Uptown actually.” Travis flops down on the bed. 

“You smell like latex,” Patty grumbles. 

“Fuck off, no I don’t.” Travis isn’t sure, she might. 

“Kreider, Teeks? He’s old.”

“He is not,” Travis says. “He’s not even 30.”

“Old.”

“Go back to your own room if you’re going to be such a prude.” Travis digs her toiletry bag out of her suitcase and heads into the bathroom. 

“I would totally hit that,” Provy says, just loud enough to hear. Travis laughs, accidentally spitting toothpaste all over the mirror. 

While she's wiping it off with some balled up toilet paper she thinks about Chris putting his hand on her back as they rode the elevator down to the lobby of his building. 

She grabs her key card from the desk. “I'll be right back,” she says and doesn't wait to hear if they respond. 

Claude answers the door as she's preparing to knock a second time. He's in a rumpled Flyers t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looks tired, and he tilts his head at her as he opens the door. 

“Hey Teeks.”

Travis pauses, thinks about what she wants. Rolls it around on her tongue. “I don't want to like anyone but you.”

Claude squints at her. “You like plenty of people.”

“No, I mean,” she huffs. “I don't want to like anyone else. I want to like you and I want you to like me back.”

“I do like you, TK.” 

“Right, but I want you to like me.” She emphasizes the word like, hoping he understands. 

“I know what you meant.” He's leaning against the door jam and it's pulling his shirt up, showing off the cut of his hip. 

“Ok, so let me in.” 

“I'm not sure I'm going to be enough for you.”

“I'm not asking for you to be everything.” 

The plush carpeting of the hallway absorbs all the noise around them. 

“What if asked you to stop sleeping around.”

“I don't think you would.” 

Claude stares at her for a long time then holds the door open and she slips in under his arm. 

He undresses her slowly, skimming his fingers over her skin. There are small bruises on her hips and they could be from hockey, but Travis knows they're not. Claude presses his fingers into them and she gasps. He kisses her until she's so breathless she has to pull away.

When Claude finally slides into her it's nothing like she'd expected. His hands and lips are all over her and it's so much, her brain can barely keep up. He slots their fingers together and brackets her head with their hands. 

When she come it's with his name on her lips.


End file.
